


Padparadschas // Pink

by diaryofageekgirl



Series: Femslash February 2021: All That Glitters... [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Collage, Cover Art, F/F, Femslash February, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Season/Series 15, and by not canon compliant i mean fuck the finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29567136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diaryofageekgirl/pseuds/diaryofageekgirl
Summary: "We are the only true endings – Death and Fate."
Relationships: Atropos/Billie (Supernatural)
Series: Femslash February 2021: All That Glitters... [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140926
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Padparadschas // Pink

**Author's Note:**

> There's some references to my finale fix-it fic, There'll Be Peace When You Are Done, towards the end of this. I don't think you _need_ to read that to understand - everything that's necessary to know is explained - but I still think you should read it anyways. ;)
> 
> Also I love Femslash February for the express purpose to taking a minor female character who was in a grand total of one episode a decade ago and make her the star of the story. I love Atropos, and there's not nearly enough fic that focuses on her.

A slight drop in temperature and subtle shift in the air was all Atropos needed to know she was no longer alone. She ignored it, at least for the moment, and continued to focus on her work. Whoever or whatever it was, if what they wanted was urgent they’d make themselves known, and if it wasn’t they’d get bored and leave. Eventually.

She stepped carefully through the elaborate spider web of golden threads, stretching back and forth and back again in every direction throughout her sanctuary. They filled the room so thickly that she could often barely walk, and instead would have to teleport around them.

Well, they had been at one point. Now, the few that were left still stretched across the room, but they were so few and far between that they were hardly an obstacle anymore. The floor was littered with cut threads, the once-shimmering gold now dull and dark. The tail ends of the threads stayed stuck against the walls and ceiling, limp and sad, which Atropos was only made aware of when she paced the full breadth of her sanctuary out of stress.

Her wooden desk, grand in every sense of the word, was piled high with paperwork. Stacks and stacks and stacks that seemed to tower all the way up to heaven itself, like a dozen separate Towers of Babel. Every day, more paperwork appeared on her desk, and every day, she had to cut more threads. She pushed her glasses up onto her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. She sighed heavily as she rubbed her eyes.

If only her sisters hadn’t faded into obscurity long ago. If only she could share this burden. She missed Clotho and Lachesis fiercely, but in the past few months she had grown to miss them even more, if only because four more hands would make the work go smoother.

“Atropos,” a rich, steady voice came from behind her. She spun around to see a woman standing in her sanctuary, reading a stack of her papers that she’d taken off of a pile. She was tall, dressed all in black, and the cold radiated from her body. Atropos’ eyes trailed over to the dark metal scythe standing upright beside her.

“Quite the set-up you’ve got here,” Billie said. Atropos hadn’t ever met her before, but she kept up with all the moves in the cosmic chess game she was a part of. She’d heard about the reaper becoming the new Death after the first had been reaped himself. She pushed her glasses back down and got up from her seat at the desk.

“Yes, well, as you can see, I’m very busy, so if you don’t mind leaving me to my work…”

“I did come here for a reason, Atropos,” Billie smoothly interrupted. She walked forwards, slow and regal like a queen. Or perhaps a goddess. Either way, power suited her well. She stopped just a few inches from Atropos; her fingers slipped beneath her chin and tipped her head up. Her fingertips were little pinpricks of cold that stung her skin, but she didn’t flinch away. Billie’s other hand slipped her glasses off.

“You’re exhausted,” she said, simply but not unkindly. Atropos felt her face flush and she blinked rapidly to fight off the sudden onslaught of frustrated tears.

“Well, thank you for the memo – I just couldn’t figure that one out for myself,” she bit out, but her voice was more morose than venomous. Still, she didn’t try to move from Billie’s grasp, nor from her piercing gaze. After a long moment, Billie dropped her hand and stepped away to wander around the room, looking about at the cut threads and piles of bureaucratic bullshit.

“You do know what’s causing this,” she waved her hand at the mess, “pile-up, don’t you?” She shot a glance at Atropos from the corner of her eye. “You haven’t heard? Chuck’s ending everything – every world, every universe he’s ever created is going poof. And with them –” she looked askance at the severed threads – “so is every soul.”

Atropos felt a cold, heavy feeling drop into the pit of her stomach. She froze, her hands coming down on the desk behind her to brace herself as she shook her head.

“No – no, he wouldn’t… he couldn’t…” But he could, and they both knew it. And even if he hadn’t had a reason to do so before, he was a God, and Gods could be pernicious, and spiteful, and could grow to loathe that which they had once loved so dearly. She tipped her head up and looked at the threads, seeing them for the first time for what they truly were. She gasped back a sob at the trillions of souls that met their end, the trillions of lives whose measure she had cut herself.

A cold but steady hand landed on her shoulder. “I need you with me, Atropos.” Billie squeezed her shoulder, still gentle, always so gentle. “There are very few beings as powerful as we are – powerful enough to stand up to Chuck. At least, if we work together. We are the only true endings – Death and Fate. I need your help to cut God’s thread.”

“I can’t,” Atropos choked out with an incredulous shake of her head. She shrugged her shoulder out of Billie’s grip and turned away. “I can’t help you.”

“Your loyalty is admirable, but it won’t protect you from him. He’s destroying everything, and soon he’ll destroy this world, too – and everyone on it.”

“I’m not saying this out of loyalty,” Atropos spat. “God… Chuck gave me and my sisters this job, many thousands of years ago. With it, he put in place certain precautions.” She turned her weary gaze to the back wall of the room, behind the desk. On one side was a distaff and spindle of gleaming silver; on the other was a measuring rod of flame-bright copper. “He made sure that he didn’t have a thread that we could spin, no fate that the Fates could read. He didn’t want any possibility of us or anyone else trying to steal his power.”

She turned back to Billie, unshed tears stinging her eyes. “Even if he did, I am Atropos, not Clotho or Lachesis. I cannot spin his thread, nor measure it to the end. All I can do is cut, but not if there is no thread to cut in the first place.” She shook her head again. “I can’t help you.”

Atropos watched Billie’s eyes soften as she took her in.

“Maybe you can’t cut the thread. But maybe it’s not the thread that needs cutting.”

At her words, Atropos reached into her pocket and pulled out her golden shears. To a being as powerful as herself or Billie, the magic they radiated was nothing out of the ordinary. If a mortal were to wield them, on the other hand, they’d be able to feel the hum of energy vibrating through them, and if they tried to cut with them, they would more than likely only cut their own thread short. She extended her hand partway out to Billie, but didn’t bridge the gap.

“I can’t just give you these; I’m not stupid, or suicidal. I don’t know what your plans are exactly, and while I don’t think you’d go overboard with them, I don’t trust anyone to use them properly.”

“Wise move; the world would be a little better if more people thought like you do.” Billie crossed her arms. “Alright then, how about a trade? You give me the shears, only for as long as I need them, of course, and I give you these.”

Billie made no movement to punctuate her statement, nor was there any sort of flash of power or ripple of energy to signify anything had changed. The only difference was a new weight that Atropos could feel hanging from her ears. She brought one hand up and felt a simple drop earring; she presumed the other side matched.

“ _Th_ _é_ _ama_ and _Í_ _chos_ ,” Billie said.

“Sight and Sound,” Atropos murmured. She wandered over to a mirror on one wall. The earrings were simple teardrop shapes, with beautiful pink stones in the centre. Padparadschas, if she wasn’t mistaken.

“Mhmm,” Billie said indulgently. “They’ll allow me to check in with you, see how you’re doing and give you reports on the situation. You won’t be able to see me in the same way, but you can respond verbally to anything I say.” She shrugged. “Besides, this won’t take any longer than a couple of weeks either way.”

Atropos’ finger traced around one jewel, her touch feather light. She furrowed her brows in consternation.

“And you’ll keep your word?” she asked. Even before Billie answered, she handed over her shears.

Billie chuckled. “Only two things are certain.”

“That’s Death and taxes,” Atropos scoffed. Billie leaned in to take the shears. As she did, she also tilted her head down and placed a chilly kiss to the centre of Atropos’ forehead.

“Don’t be too sure about that.” With a wry smirk and a toss of her hair, Billie was gone.

* * *

The sanctuary was quiet. The golden web of threads glittered in the morning sunlight, and while the paperwork still towered high above her desk, Atropos didn’t feel like Sisyphus pushing his boulder up the mountain every time she looked at it. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she worked. As she did, her knuckles brushed against her earring.

 _Th_ _é_ _ama_ and _Í_ _chos_ had gone cold about a month ago. Even before then, Billie hadn’t said much – mostly just a brief few words of updates every several days. And then the earrings went cold, and her sanctuary went dark, and all the threads cut themselves and fell limp at once – all except for four. She had been frozen then, too alarmed and terrified to move, not even sure if there was anything she could do and too afraid to do it if there was.

And then, only a few days later, they were restored. Just the way they always had been. It certainly wasn’t as full of threads as it had been when there had been all the other worlds’ in the mix as well, but at least this universe’s Earth was whole and in balance again. Not that that made any of her paperwork go away.

Atropos sighed and reached for another page. She was in the middle of crossing T’s and dotting I’s when a rustle shook some of the papers nearer to the door. She glanced up, uncertain of who would or could even visit her here.

“Billie!” She stood from her desk, abrupt and wide-eyed. “But – the earrings – your thread – how?” Billie held up a hand to stop her tirade in its tracks.

“Everything’s sorted. Chuck’s dealt with, Earth is safe, the whole nine.”

Atropos squinted at her. “You’re not Death anymore.” Indeed, the aura of power that surrounded Billie was still there, but it was significantly smaller and less dangerous that it had been the last time they met.

“Nope – back to being a run of the mill reaper for me. Amara’s Death now – pretty sure she was supposed to be from the get-go. To be honest, I don’t mind giving up the job. It’s a heavy burden.” She cracked her neck, and for just a fraction of a second a look of chagrin crossed her face. “I’m also on probation.”

“Probation? Why?”

Billie shrugged non-committedly. “Just to make sure I don’t get any other grand ideas. It’s only for a couple of months, but I’m pretty sure Amara already knows that it won’t happen again. She runs a tight ship – I respect that.”

Atropos stepped around her desk to stand before Billie. She reached up to unfasten one of the earrings.

“You probably want these back,” she said regretfully.

“Keep them,” Billie stilled her with just a gentle touch to her wrist. Her eyes were on the earring, but they slid to Atropos’ own with a smirk. “They suit you.”

Atropos knew her face was beet-red, but she steadfastly ignored the heat in her cheeks. Billie watched her for a moment or two, still smirking, then made a big show like she was remembering something as she reached into her pocket.

“I did come here for a reason,” she said; both of them remembered with perfect clarity that moment they had met just a few months earlier, those same words punctuating both meetings. Billie slipped Atropos’ shears from her pocket and held them out to her. “I believe these are yours?”

Atropos startled. “Oh, that reminds me,” she said, and spun and walked over to one side of the room. She motioned over her shoulder for Billie to follow. She picked her way through the threads until she found the one she was looking for.

All the threads she had seen, cut or uncut, were gold – either bright and glittering while they were still whole, or dull once they’d been cut. But this thread wasn’t just gold. It was at least twice as thick as every other thread, possibly thrice, and was made of strands of gold and silver and copper, and metallic blue and green and black. Every possible colour of the rainbow was woven into this thread.

“This showed up here a little while ago. I assumed…?” she trailed off as she turned back to Billie.

“Chuck’s thread.” Billie stepped up beside her. “He wasn’t killed. His power was taken from him, and he became human. He’s got a thread just like everyone else. A Fate.” She turned to Atropos. “Cutting the thread won’t kill him, correct?”

“No, it just decides the end. Just like how reaping a soul won’t kill them, it’ll just take them where they need to be.”

Billie extended the shears once more. “Together, then?”

Atropos took a deep breath and threaded her fingers through one handle of the shears, her knuckles just brushing against Billie’s in the other handle. Together, the two of them lifted the shears to Chuck’s thread, and with only the slightest hesitation, Death and Fate together severed it. It fell, limp and dark, to the floor. Atropos stared down at it.

“So who gets to reap God?” she asked quietly.

“The original Death said that he would, one day,” Billie replied. “Personally, I’d like to be the one to escort his weaselly little face to the afterlife, but realistically?” She shrugged. “It’d probably be Amara. Hell, she deserves it, after everything he put her through.”

They stood silent for a time, staring at the cut thread of both Creator and Destroyer of their world. After a while, Atropos spoke up again.

“So what happens now for you? Being on probation, and all.”

“I’m not allowed to do any solo reapings, and I’ve got a short list of jobs I’m allowed to take for the next little while. But,” Billie said, eyes twinkling, “I can do whatever I want off the job.”

“So you came here,” Atropos deadpanned.

“To return what I had borrowed,” Billie replied, her face a picture of exaggerated innocence. It broke after just a few seconds, morphing into a self-satisfied smirk. “Plus, I like the company.”

“Oh, do you now?” Atropos shot back, unable to meet Billie’s eyes, once again fighting to ignore the flaming flush to her face. Billie’s smirk just grew even more self-satisfied. Her eyes, dark and glittering, pierced through her with breathtaking ease. After a moment, Atropos glanced at Billie from the corner of her eyes. She felt herself relaxing, perhaps even enjoying the attention.

Her little sanctuary was, for the first time in thousands of years, not quite so lonely.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Fact: Sapphires come in pretty much every colour except red and peachy-pink - the red ones are rubies, since they're both corundum, and the peachy-pink ones are specifically referred to as padparadscha sapphires. Padparadscha sapphires symbolize achieving goals, calmness, clarity, and enormous change. Very fitting, if I do say so myself.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
